Attacking the Heart
by RenaRoo
Summary: He's Dick Grayson, the last of the Flying Grayson, the adopted son of Bruce Wayne, the successor of the Dark Knight. Or so he's told.


anonymous prompted: magic or alien technology gives a member of the Batfamily amnesia. The rest of the family is confident they can fix it. Only, they can't.

I would be remiss not to mention that I struggled with this prompt a bit because the story I kept making ended up being a lot like a similar story I did for the last Angst War (A Simple Life) so my suckage on this one came as a result of that. So I did what inspires me the most, I guess, on the nose symbolism!

Batman and related properties © DC Comics  
story © RenaRoo

 **Attacking the Heart**

DeSaad seems _proud_ of his work. And it's not exactly like Nightwing can blame him.

No matter how much the vigilante grits his teeth and plans and plots and looks around the chamber to see if any of his team is able to respond (they're not), no matter how much a lifetime of pushing back fears and pressing through pain has prepared him to put on a tough front, Dick Grayson is terrified just beneath his surface.

Yet somehow the vigilante had almost forgotten that the torturer had been talking this whole time.

The minion of Darksied shifts the hideous device - all claws and needles and tubes - toward Dick's head.

Kory survived this, so can he. Dick is sure of it.

"And don't forget," DeSaad's voice sings, so revolting Dick would swear his very words oozed with slime. "You absolutely _must smile."_

The device slams down and Dick screams.

The Crisis is ending just outside of Apokolips. For the team once known as the Titans, for Dick, it's too late.

* * *

He fades in and out. There's chaos around him, as expected. The walls are crumbling down, he's held over the shoulders of - Bruce. It's Bruce.

Dick relaxes instinctively, body jerking with every movement. He can't move anything but it's better - it's okay. They made it.

They, whoever they are. He remembers Bruce, though. It always comes back to Bruce. His parents. His…

His head is swimming, his body lunging forward almost like his bones are noodles, he hits the floor, tries to tuck, can't. Bruce grabs him again.

He says something and Dick manages a smile, not that he can hear the words.

They're leaving again, others are rushing past them with even more speed and force. Bruce has Dick in a grip like a vice now.

It's going to be okay. He thinks.

* * *

His head rolls sloppily, eyes swimming in darkness before the blurs of light finally break through. He blinks more than a few times, face tight with wires and tubes and bandages, body heavy and unresponsive. He thinks things are distant, cloudy.

"Dick?"

Sucking in a deep breath, Dick squeezes the hand he just realizes is wrapped around his own. There's an excited chatter.

Comforted, he closes his eyes, smiling.

* * *

Things move fast after that, it's really not long before the tubes are coming out, the bandages are unwrapped, the beeps of monitors gradually lessen. It's then that Dick starts to see around himself, and he's not as familiar with his surroundings as he would like.

The dark haired woman hugs him, runs fingers through his dirty hair and breathes it in without a word. Behind her is a line of… unfamiliar faces. And Bruce. Letting this happen.

Dick knows everyone else seems happy, excited even, but he can't help but feel on edge. He swallows, taking a breath and then patting her shoulders awkwardly.

When Barbara approaches, however, Dick blanches.

"Babs? What… what happened to you?"

Immediately, the room is on edge.

She looks concerned, approaching and taking Dick's hands as the dark haired woman releases him. Barbara looks at him seriously and says, "What are you talking about, Dick? You're… You're probably confused. You've been out for a long time. And after what you and the Titans went through-"

Dick blinks, feeling like he's missed something. _"Titans?"_ he repeats, the word feeling heavy even in his own mouth. Foreign.

What _has_ he been through? Why is everyone behaving so strangely?

"Dick?" the taller of the boys standing with the dark haired girl asks, he's wearing a red and black costume and cape, though the cowl is off. He looks suspicious just beneath his obvious concern.

"And who are these guys?" He looks to Bruce then back to Barbara. "And Babs… you're… why are you…"

"You… don't remember us?" the darker skinned boy asks, almost quietly, darkly. He's glaring but his face is torn, upset.

It doesn't take much more to tell Dick that what's wrong… isn't everyone else. What's wrong is him. He obviously should know these people, all staring at him, all concerned.

But he doesn't have a clue. Instead, he smiles and begins to apologize for the first time out of dozens and dozens of times to come.

* * *

There are holes in his memories. Large ones. Really, it seems like the longer they're at this, the more Bruce seems to be picking apart at the things Dick _thought_ he knew for certain. Nothing is complete, no knowledge of his life is really _there._

He's not even entirely sure that these memories are his, except that he just feels they have to be.

They _have_ to be.

"Uh, Tim?"

The young man turns and looks at him, a little surprised, a little hopeful. This kid - he's not really a kid anymore, Dick supposes - has known Dick since he was less than five years old. Dick has watched Tim grow up since he was twelve years old, declaring the Batman needed a Robin.

They're brothers. They have been now for over seven years.

Dick feels like he's only met this stranger.

"Uh, I was wondering if… you could tell me again…"

"Cassandra. Damian," Tim says almost automatically, brows tightening into a firm line across his brow. "Stephanie in the Cave."

"Right, okay," Dick replies awkwardly, scratching at his chin. "I'm really sorry-"

"Don't be," Tim says gently. Tiredly. "We're working on it, Dick. It's just… it's like amnesia we think. It's not your fault. It's just… taking a while."

Dick looks through the Manor window, breath wavering. "For amnesia it sure doesn't make a lot of sense what I know and what I don't…"

"It's probably a good sign," Tim offers, approaching Dick, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I mean… it has to be, right?"

He's not sure, but still Dick turns and smiles reassuringly at his brother. It makes him feel better to see Tim comforted by the gesture.

It doesn't help him remember why he cares so much to begin with.

* * *

How much of the action is muscle memory and how much of it is himself is uncertain. He tries to search her - his sister, he's told - for the answer, but she moves so fast even in just dodging and deflecting that he can't seem to get a hold of how she's feeling.

It's frustrating him. _All_ of this is frustrating him.

He punches harder. He wants to win. Just _once_ since he woke up into this nightmare he wants to win. He wants to get somewhere. He wants to…

She, Cassandra, catches his fist and directs it to the floor. Dick follows through, she moves over him, lands. He catches himself and mule kicks with everything in him.

They both end up on the floor. The mats aren't the softest in the world.

Dick's catching his breath, glaring at the ceiling, panting.

Cass hasn't exactly broken into a sweat, but she lays beside him, breathing harder than when they started. It's the closest to normal their interactions have been all day.

"Sorry," Dick breathes at last.

He hears a soft laugh between her movements. "No you're not," she replies.

In return, Dick can't help but laugh either. He runs his hands through his hair and arches back into the mats. "Well, I'm sorry I'm not exactly sorry," he replies. "What're you, a mindreader?"

That doesn't get the laugh Dick was hoping for. Instead, a thoughtful, "Hmm," comes from his sister.

Rolling onto his side, Dick looks at Cassandra carefully, she's already looking at him, knees to her chest, hair clinging to her face. Her eyes are so sharp, watchful.

"We used to do stuff like this before, right?" he asks.

"Kind of," Cass says.

Dick scratches his head. "I… guess it was different… I was better?"

"Yeah."

He huffs at that, looking down to the sweat drops he's leaving behind. "Do you think I can still be the same person?" he asks, a little shaky, a little more insecure than he meant it to be.

When he doesn't get an answer, he looks up to see the distant look on Cass' face. The knit of her eyebrows. Her eyes are dark, secretive. But her answer's pretty clear.

Before he can even think of doing something else, Dick leaps up and stretches, smiles at her. "I'm sure I can be. I just. Need to remember."

It seems like there's a lot more than that, though.

* * *

It's been three months and the atmosphere is still heavy. Still unsettling.

Which makes it that much more shocking when the Manor rumbles and all Dick can do is leap over the armchair he had been reading in and take to the Cave entrance. Another rumble occurs, but this time Dick can see the exploding burst of light and fire.

Everyone is already in various positions, surrounding the golden skinned alien in the center of the Cave - hovering above it.

Among the usual Manor residents are also a leather clad hero in a red helmet, and beside him another man in red with arrows and bows strapped to him. Dick takes a moment to observe his bionic arm, feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach as he looks at it.

He doesn't know why… but something about the man's arm is making him sick - like it represents far more loss to them than just a limb.

"Starfire, _leave,"_ Batman growls out. He then looks at Dick and points up the stairs.

Dick knows what his mentor - friend? father? brother? what are they anymore? - wants. But he silently refuses, looking instead to the "attacker."

" _…Kory."_

Koriand'r turns, bright green eyes focusing immediately on him. Without warning, she is beside him, then she is lifting him in a hug above the grounds. Dick hugs back - she's so familiar and warm.

"I remember you," she breathes into his neck.

"I know you," Dick says, feeling so much comfort and relief in those words. His grip tightens. "I know you, Kory, I…"

He doesn't remember why he knows her.

Their feet are back on the ground, Kory holding him at arm's length, looking him up and down.

"I… remember you," she repeats, unsure. Then… embarrassed, she looks down. "I'm sorry." Her arms slowly drop, fingers sliding over his shoulders. "I'm so sorry."

Dick reaches for her hands, takes them in his own, touches his forehead to hers, forces a smile.

"It's okay… It's… it's all I remember, too."

They both know there's more. They've been told that their friends - so many of them - didn't make it. They know that on top of their cluelessness and hollow memories being dealt with, everyone around them knows they shouldn't be smiling, shouldn't be happy just to remember what things they do.

Because they've lost more than they'll ever know. And that's the point.

They'll never know.

* * *

Superman is a familiar image, but _Clark_ tastes wrong on Dick's tongue. He forces himself to use it because Superman asking you to call him by name is something of a big deal. Even Dick realizes that.

Ever since parting with Kory, Dick's come to realize that things are not going to end the way everyone really was hoping they would.

Looking at Superman, he knows that the smiles are less reassuring to people and more unnerving now.

"We're… sorry, but we have many people working on this as much as possible, Starfire has volunteered to undergo trials at S.T.A.R. labs but… it's not sure. We still haven't determined what damage was done to begin with."

Batman turns, storming toward the computers. There's a definite change in the air around the Cave as the siblings scatter.

Dick stands and nods.

Clark looks completely crest fallen. "And more importantly… _I'm_ sorry, Dick," he says, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder. "I… I don't know if we can do anything more."

And still Dick doesn't remember a single thing more than the day he woke up. It's… almost funny.

Giving Clark a sad smile, Dick nods. "It's… alright. I'm just… sorry I don't know what I'm missing."

He tries to not take some sort of pride in being one of the few people on Earth who can make Superman flinch.

* * *

It's been a year and… Dick is certain things aren't the same. He's not sure they ever should be.

But for some, he knows, that's easier than others.

His youngest brother doesn't have much to do with him. And it's only lately that Dick was informed that this is not the way things are supposed to be.

It's only lately that Dick's been told that his little brother was raised by him.

When Damian isn't at dinner, Dick finds him pretty easily on the rooftop of the east wing. He doesn't even look as Dick joins him either.

"Mind if I sit here?" Dick asks.

"Are you going to be creepy?" the younger brother asks with a sneer.

"It's a possibility," Dick responds while setting in all the same. "You could always just let me know when I'm being creepy."

When Damian doesn't respond, Dick allows the silence to continue, pulling his own legs up to his chest and looking out from their view. Gotham is a distant, bright landscape across the harbor. It almost looks beautiful.

Dick wonders if Damian or any of the others still see it as beautiful. If it's a perspective only he can have.

"I'm sorry," Dick says finally. "That I'm not the brother you expect me to be."

Looking away, Damian shakes his head, mutters in a language Dick doesn't know, and then looks back. "You were my best friend," he snaps, angrily. "You don't even know who I am now."

Sadly, Dick nods in agreement. "I know… but I'm determined to learn again."


End file.
